


A Diary of Sorts

by catastrophage



Series: In Memory of Troy [1]
Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Additional Tags to Be Added, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Borderline Personality Disorder, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Conspiracy Theories, Cruelty, Dead Rabbits, Domestic Violence, Experiments on Zombies, First Person, Gen, Guns Are Fired, Hinted Relationships, Homicide, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Language, Racism, Self-Harm, Serial Killers, Suicidality, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-03-25 06:46:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13828734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catastrophage/pseuds/catastrophage
Summary: Tue, October 19, 2010. 6pm. There is a new disease spreading across the country. Dad says it is relevant so I am taking notes...You find a diary in the debris of the dam. You open it, flip through the pages - do you want to read it?





	1. The Outbreak

_The dam has fallen apart. In the debris down there you find a book, bound in leather._  
_You open it, flip through the pages - it seems to be a diary of sorts..._  
...

**Chapter One - The Outbreak**

Tue, October 19, 2010 (Day 1)

_\-- 6pm_  
There is a new disease spreading across the country. Dad says it is relevant so I am taking notes. Symptoms include fever, shivers and heavy sweating. Patients get very aggressive, attack animals and people. Seven reported cases of violent attacks following the flu-like symptoms, they said on the radio.  
Jake called and said there is rumor about people turning into walking corpses, but that it is mostly just an internet thing. Dad has faith that there is a spark of truth in every internet rumor. He believes that the mass media doesn't tell the truth, the government is hiding something, like what happened with the swine flu last year. Dad also believes that vaccines cause the rumored symptoms and that there is more to it - maybe experiments. Jake is meant to browse the net for proof backing his theories. I will browse dad's library. Not expecting to find anything. 

Wed, October 20, 2010 (Day 2)

_\-- 6pm_  
Listened to the military broadcast all day. It is called _Wildfire Virus_.  
Was there research prior the outbreak? We have to investigate.  
Yesterday there were cases of the disease reported in California, Arizona, Oregon, Washington and Colorado.  
The government is suspected to be at fault. Some say the apocalypse is coming... 

We called Jake to tell him search the city library. We need to know everything about military research and laboratories in California, to determine where it possibly comes from and where it spreads to. I guess we are safe though, and we are prepared.  
Jake reported there were cases of the _Wildfire Virus_ in five states yesterday, according to web sources. Said there was a boy who mapped all cases, he will send the map. He also said the virus made it to the newspapers, but they were vague about it.  
I'm halfway through the medical book, but as expected I did not find anything.  
I wonder why we don't hear from the CDC. Is the government really hiding something?  
Dad wants Jake to return home this very evening. Jake did not sound thrilled.

Thu, October 21, 2010 (Day 3)

_\-- 5pm_  
The WHO published a protocol last week _(Management of the Deceased Operations)_.  
It is part of a larger _International Disaster Emergency Response Plan_.  
Mike is back on the ranch. Said he's not staying in LA when zombies are marching the streets and gave us a copy of the WHO protocol.  
_Special disposal of the remains of infected required. Disregard DNR, maintain life at all costs. Attempts to restore life are to be limited to 60 seconds. Immediate transfer to a morgue, once a patient deceased."In the event that the deceased resumes signs of life (...) the reanimated remains are to be regarded as biological hazard."_ (source: WHO)

Now this is interesting! It's unlikely we will meet infected over here, but I pinned it to the kitchen wall nevertheless. Mike also said there were videos showing infected people available online. However, they could be faked.  
I spent the rest of the day musing about how much UCLA changed Mike. I don't like that hipster beard he's growing, it's hiding his pretty smile. He also didn't seem to care much about my past week, he went straight back home to talk to his parents. I feel... unworthy of his presence. Really makes me feel out of place. Why am I here?

 _\-- 7pm_  
I'm in the living room, writing this note while watching TV. There are riots in LA, they are on every news channel. We always knew the fall of democracy was coming, but we didn't expect it to happen this fast. Police are shooting people in the streets. Dad is on the phone trying to reach Jake. 

_\-- 10pm_  
Dad reached Jake, he's on his way but stuck in traffic. It's really bad. We lost our connection to him within minutes. I hope he's safe. On the radio they reported there was a declaration of emergency in eleven states. The national guard is called upon to control the riots, and all flights are cancelled.

 _\-- 11pm_  
Apparently down in the city the power went out, TV stations are not sending anymore.  
I declare this doomsday. Mike finally came over, we're sitting in front of the dark TV screen and talk about our expectations.  
Mike still believes they will get it under control, he's not much of a doomer. I can tell he is scared.  
I believe the disease came from Mexico. Some form of revenge, maybe an ancient spell. Mike cracked up at that. Good to see him back. Missed him.

Fri, October 22, 2010 (Day 4)

_\-- 6pm_  
On the military broadcast they said there was a plane crash outside LA and no emergency aid is given.  
So that's it. We're on our own now.

Played two rounds of risk with Mike and Charlene. Cooper joined us for a third.  
We are just waiting for what happens next... I hope Jake will be back soon.  
Dad is having a meeting with Vernon and the others, the inner circle, making plans how to deal with refugees from the cities. Basically: let them in, ask for payment, reject or shoot them?

 _\-- 8pm_  
Jake has arrived this evening. First thing dad called him to the living room to talk, just the two of them. I can still hear their shouting all the way through the house. Jake had it coming to him, he completely disregarded our strict GOOD protocol. Get out of dodge - leave the city. Dad told him to come home, he told him on Wednesday and that jerk only left when the riots had already started.  
Besides, Jake brought a new family to the ranch. He met them on the way and they brought their own RV. Joseph is around our age, but he does not talk much.

 _\-- 10pm_  
Dad called me to come downstairs. They both calmed down, Jake sports a black eye and dad smells of booze, but what else is new. Jake handed me a copy of the emergency declaration, which he could access early through his job. It's always handy to have a lawyer in your family. There are more states listed affected by the outbreak than we knew of before. And apparently they are starting to evacuate some areas now.  
When Jake left the city, he could see the riots. According to him, the people were actually protesting against police brutality, but it went out of control. Traffic congestion was instant, everyone wanted out. It took him five times as long as usual to get here. He just went out to get his laptop from the car now.

 _\-- 11pm_  
On his laptop, Jake has downloaded copies of the video and picture material showing the infected. One shows an infected attacking a rescue worker on the highway. It looks like he's eating him - that's crazy! They shot him multiple times, it took at least 7 bullets to his chest and head. There is also a picture of a homeless shot in the head, right through the eye. Pretty gross.  
Jake brought printed out versions of everything else he got from the internet. Thanks tobi94 for the maps! I hope you survive, boy.

Sat, October 23, 2010 (Day 5)

_\-- 4pm_  
Another family arrived today. They also have an RV, some guns, and knew dad from his old advertisements. Said the video clips popped up online just when the shit hit the fan. Needless to say he accepted them to stay. It's a young mother, her father and little son.  
So this is how it is like? TEOTWAWKI... I must admit, I have been waiting for it all my life. It's exciting, all the things that may change now. For me it is a dream come true. But the sky is clear, the ranch looks peaceful. We let in people like it means nothing, like we don't need to consider rationing. It still feels like it's not real. I would not say I'm disappointed, but maybe I am, if just a little.

Sun, October 24, 2010 (Day 6)

_\-- 3pm_  
Mike and I play a game. One says something awfully depressing and the other tries to connect it to a good memory we have. Mike doesn't know we are playing though... That's why for the sixth time in a row it's on me to find something good in his bad. We don't have enough supplies to hand out to all the people. Remember how we went hunting together? He might not ever see his friends from college again. But I'm right here. _As invisible as I've always been._

New people are arriving at every hour now. Some are accepted in, some are not. For the time being they move on to the directions dad gives them without much of a complaint. There's a camping area down at the other side of Salton Sea, it's probably safe. I would not suggest anyone to drive through Mexicali, but the less people, the more supplies, right? Dad said we will have to defend the fences soon. He asked me to set up the militia, he wants them under my command. I've met Mike by the cattle barn, told him he is in - that's when our little game here started. 

Mon, October 25, 2010 (Day 7)

_\-- 6pm_  
Fall started early this year, and after a short period of mild weather, the few clouds we had are gone again. It's getting warmer and we anticipate a dry winter.  
We have never worried much about our water supplies before. Colorado River is not far and we have emergency supplies of bottled water that could get all of us through a full week. And as long as we'd have gas, we could drive to Phoenix or Palm Desert and buy more. Now is different, we cannot enter larger settlements, we are facing a drought and every day more families join us. Back in the day we were 32... 38 people at most - if everyone was home from college and military duties. We had supplies for 40 and some. As of this afternoon, we are at 56 - men, women, children - and still counting. Our well is intact, thankfully. Dad says not to worry, I'll try my best to trust him.

Radio broadcast came back with emergency instructions. The military is erecting safe zones in all larger cities since yesterday. Not much info is given, but residents are ordered to move to the zones and stay inside. Like it would be safe in the cities.

Tue, October 26, 2010 (Day 8)

_\-- 2pm_  
More and more people arrive at our gate. Vernon and the big Otto are starting to be strict now: only young men who are willing to join the militia are allowed in, and those who can provide more than they take. Groups with even just one sick person - or who report having had contact to infected - are denied entrance. Our safety comes first, that's the whole point of this ranch. It needs to stay safe.

 _\-- 4pm_  
Phil returned to the ranch. First thing he wanted to talk to my father, alone. He did not even greet anyone, well that's him, grumpy old man. Now the only one missing is Blake, but Blake is likely busy evacuating people out there.

Phil McCarthy - he is easily one of our best men in the approaching catastrophe. Ruthless, but trustworthy, and trained in the military. He knows how to command others and he follows his own orders to the point. I actually have a lot of bad memories with him. I think he really wanted to help me, train me, maybe even get me join the army. But once he beat me with a stick until my skin cut open, just because I refused to continue my combat training that day. Another time he tied me to a tree and made me count the seconds. An hour later he asked me how many had passed: 3655 I answered. I was wrong, he left me standing there until Jake found me at night. Phil is one of the founders of the ranch, so nobody would ever hold him accountable for the things he did, not even when he touched Gretchen.

But through Phil I could learn no person is purely evil, even he has his good moments. He often bought me books. He told me to keep learning after I had to leave school, and he made sure I always had something new to read. My father and he share their taste in Greek philosophy, but Phil is also fond of classic stage drama and poetry. He introduced me to some authors and had me recite their texts - I kind of liked Poe.

Like my father, Phil believes that the end of the world is a war of races, clash of cultures. Mexicans, Indians - they're different from us. We only have so many resources, and if the population keeps growing, everyone sticks to their own kind, claims land, gas, food all just for those who are like them. Our conflict with the Indians proves this to be true.  
They came up with the funnier theories about the end of the world when they were drunk together. Like this one: gays will conquer the country from within, they will spread homosexuality and genderism, until people forget who they are. Eventually everyone will be infected with HIV, and only those who were faithful and settled for a girl would survive the apocalypse.  
That's bullshit of course. Don't ask but I know. Just... don't ask.  
Another thing my father and Phil have in common is, they are violent drunks.  
Most people are, they just never notice. This is one reason why I don't ever drink.

Wed, October 27, 2010 (Day 9)

_\-- 3pm_  
Today is the first day someone fired a gun at the gates. I don't know if it was Vernon or Otto, or if the first shot was fired by the newcomers. Who knows, maybe it was Joseph, trying to make himself useful. Nobody talked about it, they just closed the gates and quietly returned home at the end of their shift.

Now it is Mike's and my turn to defend the gates. _If you have to shoot, shoot them in the head,_ my father told us. Mike keeps saying he doesn't like this. He's so different from his father, who is ready to fight for what he believes in.  
Mike's father, Vernon Trimbol is one of the four founders, the youngest of them. His motivation to stay at the ranch is a little different from dad's or Phil's. Vernon believes in what he calls the _Last Judgment_ , and that the end times are near. The current disease that spreads across the country is, according to him, a biblical plague, some kind of natural disaster that was inevitable. Those who survive the plague are the chosen leaders in the _Kingdom of God_. I'm not religious but hey - I would like that.

Come on, it's us or them Mike, us or them.

Thu, October 28, 2010 (Day 10)

_\-- 5pm_  
On the military broadcast they hinted at orders to kill people outside the safe zones. Luckily we are far outside, no cities nearby. Nobody will come to mess with us.  
So this is the tenth day of the apocalypse. The newcomers are the only clue I get that something is off. The sky is still perfectly blue, the desert as empty as ever. Have not seen a single corpse since, much less one that's walking around. I helped Mike and Gretchen grooming their horses at noon, then Mike and I went for a ride. We don't do that often nowadays, we used to do it more back in our teens. We would leave the ranch, drive the cattle to another patch of grass and search for a place out there, where it was just the two of us...  
_Once in a while, way the hell out in the middle of nowhere._

Well that's long past. Today we're back in time for dinner.

Fri, October 29, 2010 (Day 11)

_\-- 11am_  
Old Russell gathered all the newcomers in the assembly tent. He made us all carry some extra chairs, so everyone could sit. The speech he held was excellent, impressive, like always. As a child I always thought he was some kind of hero, and today was a nice little throwback to that.

My first impression - when I was little - was that Russell was Santa. He was in his 60s and his beard was white already. He would have gifts for me, not just for Christmas. Once it was a plush horse with the logo of the gas station, another time a children book about animals in the desert. He had that big cowboy hat he gave to me when I turned ten, and he also gave me my first gun. The hunting knife I got from him played a role in me being expelled from school, and instead of scolding me like Phil would, Russell had a long rant about school and teachers, ending with an offer to teach me at home. He could be strict, but when I was a good boy he gave me candy, sometimes the only candy I saw all year.

When I was old enough - what may not have been old enough by everyone's standards - Russell told me about the Korean war. Santa turned into a war hero, who killed lots of evil communists. Until one day Martha told me he spent most of the war hospitalized in Tokyo, with her as his nurse. My war hero turned into a womanizer, and I begged him to tell how to ask someone out, but he evaded the topic. Actually, now that I think about it, I bet it was Martha asking him out instead.  
All honestly, people on the ranch are my family. They are all important to me.  
But they're not the heroes I imagined them to be as a child. 

Now this may change. We are facing a real adventure.  
And Russell has just given the perfect speech for it.

Sat, October 30, 2010 (Day 12)

_\-- 3pm_  
It is strangely quiet today. It is late noon and no survivors have arrived at the ranch. The steady humming of machines driving down the road has died out.  
Everyone is probably either safe-zoned or dead by now. I would really like to call Blake, but the phones have stopped working. We can just hope he survived, he's a good guy, really good guy.  
What started as notes on the _Wildfire Virus_ is now a mere diary. The only source of information left is the military broadcast, and it is sending for a couple hours each day at most. But I will try to add something every day. Who knows what purpose it will serve.  
I invited Charlie, Mike and Coop for another round of risk, but Coop suggested getting into roleplay instead. He brought his dice, pens and character sheets and I think we're going to have some fun tonight. 

PS: Charlie is our fighter - Mike is a healer - and I'm a mage - of course.


	2. Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally some zombies in this chapter! Troy's taste in music will be mentioned, and if you're interested what his playlist would have looked like, [click here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLaI03EytBMlDANvIXzUg9HlyVDJHdHRCY)! I did include the two songs from the series, and a third one that's anachronistic but a perfect fit for the character - everything else was released pre 2010. For this chapter in particular I want to recommend _Katatonia - For My Demons_.

**Chapter Two - Death**

Sun, October 31, 2010 (Day 13)

_\-- 4pm_  
Something interesting happened today. Phil and I, we took some men and placed warning signs in the desert. Those who come to the ranch now will be shot - we can't risk any infected. Then on the way back I saw him, the first walking dead. Nobody else did. I lied about hunting some game for dinner and left the group, had them drive back home without me.

He was hard to spot, got stuck in a rabbit hole in the soft ground. Old bald man. Can't move, just his arms. He grunts, opens and closes his jaw as if trying to eat. I sit roughly 8 feet away now and watch him. Seems like he can't climb, can't bring his knees up. His focus is on me like mine on him. He never turns away, never rests.

 _\-- 5pm_  
I walked around him. His face followed each of my steps and when I left his field of vision, he started grunting louder, trying to turn around. I kept standing there for a moment, watched him and eventually he was quiet. Quieter than before. Didn't move anymore at all. When I came back to the front, he started reaching out and biting air again.

 _\-- 6pm_  
I walked around him more. When I just keep standing there and don't make a sound, he stops moving after 15 minutes. But if I make the smallest noise, he gets back to life. Those things can hear! I tried it again, this time a little closer. He did not stop moving at all, even at 20 minutes. I wonder if he could hear my breath?  
Have to return home now before it's dark. Hope he's still there tomorrow.

 _\-- 9pm_  
Phil scolded me for not bringing any quarry. Shit.

Mon, November 1, 2010 (Day 14)

_\-- 10am_  
I went out early to return to the experiment. He's still stuck, but started moving as he saw me.  
I'm repeating yesterday's tests, this time with distance markers on the ground, before I'm trying something different.

 _\-- 1pm_  
He just won't be quiet. Finally at 10 feet he stopped moving after 18 minutes, but now that I write this he can hear the pen scratching on paper and moves again. I think it's the wind, it carries the sound. Or... let me try something.

 _\-- 4pm_  
Took me a while. I caught a rabbit and fed him a leg. I was careful not to touch him, just kicked it over, but once the meat was in reach, he took it and devoured it. They eat. Flesh.  
I placed the rest of the rabbit behind him. The rabbit is at 3 feet and I'm at 15 behind the last marker. He should not hear me anymore and the rabbit is dead, but I've been waiting for 60 minutes already and he still moves. So that means...  
Wait, he's just stopped moving. Inaccuracies?

 _\-- 5pm_  
Chopped off his arm with my machete. He reached out for the rabbit (I had to waggle with it a little) - and he did not even flinch. I don't think he knows weapons can hurt him, and he also doesn't show pain. He moves on with what's left as if nothing had happened.  
I'll better be careful with the blood.

 _\-- 6pm_  
I shot him in the chest. Twice. No reaction. He does bleed a little, but that's it.  
It's getting dark soon. Time to kill him.

 _\-- 7pm_  
Beheaded him. And this is interesting: the body stopped moving at once, fell over dead like it should.  
But the head still lives, grunts and tries to bite.  
This is... beautiful. A miracle. This is endless life!

 _\-- 9pm_  
I repeated some of the tests and he behaves the same without a body.  
He even still eats - tries to, anyway.  
Will be back tomorrow.

Tue, November 2, 2010 (Day 15)

_\-- 10am_  
Today I brought a birdcage. I remembered we had one up the attic, 'cause mom loved birds. It's old and rusty but will do.  
I also brought the radio. I wonder where he turns to, the noise of the radio or me in his view?  
Wish he still had his body for the test.

 _\-- 2pm_  
After a lot of testing, I think the radio wins.  
Let me conclude this, aesthesia of the undead:  
• They can hear and it's their most important form of perception.  
• They can see about the same as a living person.  
• And maybe they also smell. Not sure about the smelling.  
Now - how do I get him into the cage without touching him?

 _\-- 4pm_  
Got it. So glad he can't grab me anymore.  
They just said something interesting on the military broadcast.  
My reception was not the best, but I think they called it Operation Cobalt.

 _\-- 8pm_  
Phil is over and dad and he are drinking. They're in a really dark mood so I'll try my best not to get in their way.  
I managed to smuggle my test object in, but he's making noises, I don't think I can keep him hidden up here.  
Nobody ever enters the attic but better be safe than sorry - I'll find another place tomorrow.  
Meanwhile on the military broadcast they repeated their instructions. Military is told to leave the safe zones and retreat from the cities for their own safety.  
No word to the residents - that doesn't sound good. I'm so glad Jake and Mike are back home.

 _\-- 11pm_  
My jaw hurts, my nose bleeds. It's one of those nights.  
Once they show up in the doorframe there's nothing I can do.  
_I don't want to be here..._

Wed, November 3, 2010 (Day 16)

_\-- 2pm_  
I arranged a meeting with Gretchen down in the cellar and brought the head. She will store it for me. Didn't ask questions. Seemed pretty amused actually - she named him Geoff. I like that girl, so understanding. I know her innocence is a mere façade, and I think she knows I know. She's been covering up each time Mike and I left the ranch for a day or two, lent me her horse, made sure there were no rumors. 

Now we're sitting on the soft seats she brought to make this place her spare room.  
We just talk. I asked her about Mike, what's going on with him, why he wears a beard now instead of his smile.  
She doesn't know either, says he seems depressed. A lot of people are.

 _\-- 7pm_  
On the radio they gave commands to start _Operation Cobalt's Final Stage_ now.  
It's hard to follow the instructions, they use a lot of code words. But I assume they are talking about bombing the cities.

 _\-- 10pm_  
They are drinking again. I think it's _Operation Cobalt_ that gets them worked up. Phil, he's really grim since he's heard the orders on the radio.  
I've decided it will be better if I don't sleep in my bed tonight. I made sure they didn't see me leave.  
I'm sitting in one of the empty shacks - top bunk - as I write this.  
I wish Mike was with me, or Coop... anyone.

 _\-- 11pm_  
Phil found me. As a child I used to beg and cry and scream, but I'm tired now.  
So very tired. He didn't stop until I faked unconsciousness.  
_Sometimes I just want to vanish._

Thu, November 4, 2010 (Day 17)

_\-- 3am_  
I went to the medical tent. It's Christine's shift but I asked her to send for Mike. I knew he would tend my bruised ribs without asking. He didn't say a word, just patched me up, once again. I asked if I could stay the night and Christine brought me a blanket and hot chocolate. She tries to strike up a conversation with me while I write this. Good woman - but I'll just pretend to sleep soon.

 _\-- 9am_  
Woke up to the noise of the radio. Jake and Christine both sit at the table and listen. I've missed the first part of the transmission, but I think they're repeating all of it. They say they are _unable to provide any rescue efforts to survivors by land, air, or sea._ Military is disbanding?  
Jake approaches me now, I can't tell if he's angry or concerned.

 _\-- 11am_  
What was probably meant to be caring and comforting ended with us yelling and barking at each other.  
He says I must have done something to provoke Phil. Says I shouldn't get into fights now that shit hit the fan and we are on our own.  
You don't say, brother...

 _\-- 4pm_  
Back on my own bed, tuning in the military broadcast.  
It's mostly just noise, but I heard someone talk casually about the bombing. Someone else jokes about it.  
Fuck. I think one of the guys has just shot themselves on the radio.

 _\-- 6pm_  
I have thought about it before. Killing myself.  
I'm not sure if I can, but I think I wouldn't mind if someone shot me.  
Quick death at least. I could not stop thinking about it.

 _\-- 11pm_  
Blake has just returned. It's so good to see him alive, he was the last one missing!  
He went straight to the medical tent, however. Collapsed on a bed, mumbled something about not having slept for sixty hours.  
He looks like it to be honest.  
I'll watch over him.

Fri, November 5, 2010 (Day 18)

_\-- 4am_  
Blake just woke up in panic and asked me if he had a fever.  
If anything, his skin felt too cold. I told him and he thanked me, rolled over and fell asleep again.

 _\-- 7am_  
The sun is rising for another warm fall day and I'm back next to Blake's bed after taking a short nap myself. His face is dirty, his hands are rough. He has some smaller burns and scratches. He's in the military, is someone I look up to, and yet seems broken and small, the way he lies there in uneasy sleep. I wonder what happened. 

_\-- 1pm_  
Blake is awake and we're sitting at the table, having a late breakfast.  
He's telling me some of the things that have happened and I'm noting them down.  
He was informed of Operation Cobalt early on his mission. Not everyone was.  
The whole evacuation was already part of it. He says Jake was lucky he could escape, a lot of people died on their way out of the cities.  
Even more were killed by the military. It was a massacre, Blake says. His soft blue eyes stare into the space.  
First they shot everyone in the streets. Then they evacuated the military and bombed what was left.  
They dropped napalm on the safe zones. He's seen the fires spread, has been up in the sky.  
_The disease would have spread. Everyone is contaminated,_ he says.

I have never seen Blake this nervous. One moment he is staring absentmindedly, then he starts to look around if someone could spy on us.  
He's just muttering incoherent sentences now. _The fire spreads. Everyone is infected. We're not safe. No place is safe._

 _\-- 8pm_  
After another couple hours of sleep, Blake seems to feel a bit better again.  
I made him some tea and brought him from our dinner - and also his music. It will help him get back on track. 

_\-- 11pm_  
I'm lying awake. If everyone from the city is infected, then what's with Jake and Mike?  
We shouldn't have let anyone in. We're all contaminated now.

Sat, November 6, 2010 (Day 19)

_\-- 2pm_  
Told Blake he is on duty because I wanted to have him around. He did not complain - but Mike did, said I should give that man some rest.  
I sent for Cooper, Jim, William and Charlene, so we could discuss things.  
Blake knows a lot of the things we don't know about the undead. They only die when shot or stabbed in the head. That's why Geoff didn't stop moving after I beheaded him. There's a particular part of the brain that lets them function the way they do, but Blake doesn't know what it is. Any damage that is severe enough to cause brain hemorrhage should be enough. I asked if strong shaking and blunt impact worked. He shook his head and said he wouldn't risk trying.  
Blake also said everyone would turn. If we died, we would turn. Everyone is indeed infected. This was quite a shock, for some of us more than for others. Mike and Coop both looked really pale, but Charlie took the info with a shrug. _Let's not die then,_ she said.  
I can't quite believe it yet. I want to see proof first.

 _\-- 8pm_  
The sky turns red at night. Blake said we can see the fires spreading east across the country.  
We agreed to go on patrol in the area the next days, to keep it all under control.

Sun, November 7, 2010 (Day 20)

_\-- 4pm_  
First day of patrol today, but we are back early. Blake and I decided to act methodically. We're looking at some maps of the area and try to determine the most likely migration movements of the undead.  
We want to know - if they come - where it happens.

 _\-- 8pm_  
We've been working with the maps all evening. Blake knows a lot of things, I can't stress this enough. He can locate all military installations, he knows where emergency instructions lead the people, and he has at least an idea of the numbers of survivors. Without him our militia would be incomplete. He's a good soldier and a great advisor. He's my right hand.

Mon, November 8, 2010 (Day 21)

_\-- 4pm_  
Back early again. We used our maps and Blake's calculations were correct. We ran into a group of walking corpses. I had informed everyone that we're using melee weapons. Loud shots could attract more of them and we also have to save ammunition for emergencies. I had told them to aim for the heads. I had fucking told them. But Matt didn't understand my perfectly clear instructions. Weren't they perfectly clear, Matt?  
Now we're back and Mike and Christine examine his bite. We don't know what happens, but Blake said he's as good as dead. 

_\-- 8pm_  
Matt, he has a fever. Blake is convinced that he will die and that he is a danger to everyone else.  
I'm on my way to get my gun. I'll do it quick and painless. Bye Mattie.

 _\-- 10pm_  
Things went out of hand. I fired a shot, someone screamed.  
Had a woman beating at my chest like a fury the next moment.  
People came closer, asked what was going on.  
I said I shot Matt. I guess... that was the wrong thing to say.

So it's day 21 of the apocalypse and the first person from the ranch is dead. I think that's good statistics, compared to what happened in the cities. And Blake had my back. Even Coop didn't object. He had seen them out there. But some people disagree, look at me like I'm the devil.  
Dad is furious. He's holding a meeting tonight, without me.

Tue, November 9, 2010 (Day 22)

_\-- 8am_  
Jake aggressively cleans the kitchen. If you don't know how someone can aggressively clean a room, you have not met Jake yet.  
I asked dad if he had breakfast. He barely looked up and nodded. Never returned the question. Oh wow - everyone is in a really good mood today. Don't care about me, it's allright.

 _\-- 4pm_  
There was turmoil. Apparently Mattie's mom was going to shoot me.  
Blake stopped her when he saw her on the way to our house.  
According to Coop he was angry as hell. Punched her in the face.  
Coop and Mike tried to calm the waves, disarmed them. Wish I had been there.

 _\-- 9pm_  
Dad called Blake and me in. He had us standing in front of his desk, then informed us that we were going to leave the ranch for a mission.  
He told us to pack and leave the next day. Said we should take some of the militia with us.  
He took one of our maps and pointed at one of Blake's red circles marking a military area near Tijuana.  
We're supposed to see what's left, take what we can and bring it home. That's a task to my liking!

 _\-- 11pm_  
I was not supposed to leave the house tonight after what had happened earlier, but I sneaked out anyway to meet Mike. He did not want to see me. I don't know what's up with him. I told him to join the mission, to pack his bag and come with us. It would have been exciting, we could have shared a bunk over there. But he refused. Told me I should not be in high spirits when I basically just got expelled. That... hurt.  
I feel kinda... unworthy now. Dad never said he was expelling me. But was he? Mike might as well have made it up. What's even going on with him, why does he hate me? The good mood I was in because of the mission is all gone. It's cold at night outside, but I need to take a walk. I feel like I should not come back again. Just stay away, die out there in the desert. Would you like that, Mike?

Wed, November 10, 2010 (Day 23)

_\-- 10am_  
Blake has gathered quite a few people who'll join us.  
He said they all had a choice, and they all wanted to get out of here.  
Some are quite eager to see the zombies.

 _\-- 1pm_  
Dad held a short speech, Jake was standing next to him, with his best austere look.  
They said we will look for gas and weapons, chances are we will get those things at the military depot.  
We will get in, secure the place, get the fuel and get out again.  
Later, when people started leaving, dad took me aside and told me to secure the border. I will try my best.

 _\-- 3pm_  
Coop helped us load up the cars. He is the perfect man for every situation. If I don't know what to do, I can count on his advice.  
He is calm, a good listener and very loyal. Quite often he is my voice of reason, and also one of my best friends.  
He got me into fantasy literature when I was younger, lent me his books of Lovecraft and said I needed a break from the piles of nonfiction the others made me read.  
Coop and Blake share their taste in music, which they passed on to me. Coop knows all the good metal bands, all of them. He is into symphonic metal, Blake prefers darker songs. I like when they're fast, I like the screams and wailing. The music resonates with me, somehow... it channels my anger.

Coop is not coming with us either. But at least Coop came to see me off. Mike... he didn't even say goodbye. I feel lonely without him.  
The desert sun heats up the car frame. I like to touch it when it's hot, it feels good. Helps me control myself.  
I can't lose it now, I'm on a mission.

Thu, November 11, 2010 (Day 24)

_\-- 2pm_  
We should be there soon. This is a memo that I should keep Willy busy somehow.  
Poor boy has seen too much, just like Blake. But Blake is an epitome of mental stability compared to Will.

 _\-- 5pm_  
We arrived at three fifteen, the place looks like a ghost town. There are enough blankets on the beds, showers are running, though cold. According to Drew the kitchen is stocked with basics and Blake is having a look at the generators. But nobody is here. They even left the cars, just a few traces suggest that fighter jets may have started here in the desert. I feel like an intruder, but also - somehow - as if I was coming home.  
We have to secure the place now. We are close to the border, it's dangerous out here.

PS: I found a uniform that's a perfect fit - I'll keep it.


	3. Experiments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the long wait! This was the hardest chapter to write. We're at the depot now, and the killing escalates. There are a lot of experiments going on, and Troy barely talks about the ranch. Don't worry, we'll be back there soon! I actually did some research myself to provide some reliable info here... the formula you will find in the text works for more than 20 deaths in the series, and you can use it to calculate your own turning time. Yay. Have fun!

**Chapter Three - Experiments**

Fri, November 12, 2010 (Day 25)

_\-- 7pm_  
Second day at the depot. We're refueling our cars and see which military vehicles we can use. Blake and I have scheduled watch shifts and supply runs. Willy is supposed to take the inventory. I made it appear to be the most important role, and it seems like he took the bait. Anything is fair as long as the boy is busy.  
Charlene came for a visit with the helicopter, brought more supplies and took a first batch of clothes and firearms back to the ranch. She doesn't know we're heading for the border soon... and I'd prefer her being oblivious to it. She has this tough shell, but I know she's hiding a big heart behind. Charlie and Dax - I'm glad they're staying home. They don't know of all the wars we're fighting.

 _\-- 11pm_  
It's my shift on the watchtower, which means I'm sitting on the highest building, as we don't really have a tower. And they're here - the walking dead. They're coming from across the border. Tijuana, Mexicali... they must hear the others down in the dormitory. It's just a small group, four - five now, but they're determined to reach the dorm and go straightforward to the wall. They're not even searching an entrance, they just follow the noise. I don't even know if they are capable of thinking. They just react on stimuli.

Now that I'm watching a group there's one thing I've noticed. They don't ever reach out for each other. They stretch their hands out towards the noise, they move their jaws, try to eat - but not their own kind. I wonder what it is that signals the difference.

Sat, November 13, 2010 (Day 26)

_\-- 3am_  
I'm not sleeping. I got some night vision glasses and a handful of stones and returned to the roof. Told Simon he can sleep if he wants. Here we go again... test subjects two to six. Two is a big bald guy. He moans louder if a stone hits him. Three, Four and Five turn to look at him. But they don't grab him, they keep their distance. Seems like they got distracted. Dorm should be all quiet now, so they lack the stimuli, and they just walk where the stones hit the ground. Three arrives first, four shoves him away a bit, but then they just stand still. They don't attack each other, they even seem to avoid each other, coming to rest standing apart without touching. I need to catch two of them. William and Simon are going to help me when they wake up again.

 _\-- 8am_  
I've sent Will and Simon to help Drew in the kitchen. It's just me, Three and Five now, in one of the storage rooms. We had to shoot Six in the head, funny dude with funny hair, but he was being clingy. We also shot Two and Four back outside, because we didn't need them. Oh - they like the sound of guns. They really, _really_ like the sound of guns.

 _\-- 9am_  
The problem is, they focus on me all the time. They never interact, because I must seem like a fancy barbecue to them.  
But I have an idea... we have flare guns.

 _\-- 11am_  
Five looked interesting sparkling like a firework. So bright that I couldn't keep my eyes on him, and he was moaning nonstop. Three liked it as well, he finally didn't try to follow me around anymore. And yet they didn't touch, didn't interact. Five actually still tried to approach me... I had to end his misery. Now only Three is left, standing in his corner. I'm at the entrance, too far away to get noticed. Good boy will wait.

 _\-- 5pm_  
Let me sum up the past hours. I got two quails for Three. Repeated what I did with Geoff - I brought them to the storage alive, killed both and fed him the first. He devoured it. It was still warm and bleeding, as good as fresh meat. And now I fed him the other, but he didn't touch it. It's not fresh enough. The dead... don't like the dead.

 _\-- 8pm_  
I brought Three some of my beef from dinner. He didn't eat. Tried to reach for my arm instead, the bastard.  
I've had enough. He's joining the others outside. Willy is helping me carry it, Simon cleans the room.

Sun, November 14, 2010 (Day 27)

_\-- 3am_  
I can't sleep so I went back to the office room. I have spent some time here earlier, I think it's pretty much becoming my personal room. When I left the dorm room I have noticed the dead at the windows. One of them to the left, then a wide gap, and two all the way on the other side. I went to see what's between them and it was right there that we had disposed of the lifeless bodies. They preferred other windows, I guess... it's as long as the quality of stimuli is the same. They avoid the dead, so they aren't in competition with each other, not eating each other. I assume this is different in case of a shortage. One single stimulus that attracts them all? I would not volunteer to be the bait. I wonder if this discovery can be of help.

 _\-- 9am_  
My orders are out: everyone who is not on kitchen or watch duty is going out today. I want as many of the freaks at the gates as we can find. And I want them dead. What means, dead... not moving anymore dead. I have just given a nice speech about how they are to be stabbed or shot in the brain. If anyone decides to pull a Mattie and return to the depot with a bite, I will shoot them before they can say TEOTWAWKI.  
We got those nice Colt M4A1s here, feels good to carry. Let's get shit done.

 _\-- 4pm_  
Blake and I are back at the depot. Most others are, but some overachievers like Willy are still searching stumblers. I've told Blake why I want the dead. We're building a barrier against them. Blake will now watch the others arranging it, while I rest. It's nice to have the dorm to myself.

Blake - he's a good guy. He's never let me down. Phil introduced him to the ranch a couple years ago, around the time Mike left for college. Blake was still new in the military, and he had already seen enough to understand that democracy would fall. He said that we had started a war over oil, and that we could never win it. Eventually everyone would lose. There is... was an arms race and at one point it would surely escalate. He was ready to be sent to fight al-Qaeda, but he said he might not return, and that it would be better for him.  
It never happened. Blake was sent to Algeria instead, to train their military against terrorists. He returned after one year, unharmed and good looking as ever. Got a nice tan and told us "I'm ready to live in the desert now." - one of the best days of my life.

Mon, November 15, 2010 (Day 28)

_\-- 3am_  
Leaving the dorm and going to the office at this time seems to become a habit. The barrier - it works. I've been to the roof and watched them pass by the gate. It's like that spot is invisible now. I still wouldn't dare to jump and scream, but as long as we keep quiet... we're safe. We need more of them. We have to surround the whole goddamn depot.

 _\-- 4am_  
Memo: Dad told me to secure the border. I think I know where we will get enough corpses for the force field.  
Gotta prevent people from entering the country after all. There aren't enough resources for everyone.

 _\-- 11am_  
It's getting warmer again. We have measured 86 degrees today. I worry about our water reserves back at the ranch. Maybe we shouldn't be searching fuel but water... but I'm not going to discuss this with anyone other than Dad. Nobody else should worry about it, the last thing we need now is panic.  
We have just been preparing to visit the border when I got a signal from Jake. He's coming for a visit - really bad timing.

 _\-- 6pm_  
So Jake is on his way back. Charlene was here, too. Came to remind me to just get the fuel and leave. They had some beef, cabbage and beer for my boys - needless to say I confiscated the beer. No drinking on missions. I asked for a couple more days to learn more about the roaming dead and with Charlie's support we got Jake to agree. We get one week, they will return next Monday.

Charlie is a real angel. Fair skinned, blonde, small. Always wears boy clothes, but that can't hide the fact she's beautiful inside and out. She's one of the most intelligent people on the whole ranch, even though she talks little. She understands the importance of science, and doesn't fear a lot of things. She might not even feel the need to prepare for the end of the world... I think she would say something like _"We can predict a lot of things and prepare for a lot of things, but we will only really know what we're into when it happens."_

 _\-- 9pm_  
I feel sick. Since Jake and Charlie are gone, all I can think of are my friends back at the ranch. Mike, he didn't even say goodbye. I'll go to war tomorrow and he doesn't know. I feel small, unimportant. My chest aches and I really just want to disappear. Just... disappear. I have punched the wall of my office, bitten my hand, but I can't silence my mind. It's just not enough. I want to feel more, so much more than this.  
Maybe if tomorrow... a bullet hits me, I'll feel at peace.

Tue, November 16, 2010 (Day 29)

_\-- 2pm_  
It all happened really fast. I ordered everyone to the border, told them what to do, and one of them refused. His name was Josh. He said we weren't murderers, that the world had never ended and we couldn't do what we want. So I shot him, to prove him wrong, quick and painless. I aimed for the heart. I'm really curious about a couple of things and he... he just... it was the perfect opportunity.  
And then Drew - Drew of all people - snapped. Ran up to me and punched me hard, sent me to the floor. He sat on my chest with his 280 pounds. Punched me again. His voice was loud, he asked if I was interested in their safety. If it was safe to touch the dead and if he was infected now, because some of their blood sprayed on his skin. He screamed we all were dying and that I'd execute them and he hit me over and over again, until Simon fired another shot.  
Dear little Simon.

Blake, Simon and I carried the two to the shower room. We handcuffed them to the faucets, because neither was shot in the head. I'm curious if they will turn. This would show - once and for all - if we are infected already. It would be a huge game changer. Any death within our well defended walls could still lead to walking corpses on the ranch.

I've seen myself in the mirror. Let's say I look funny. My cheek is swelling, my nose bleeding, and my chest hurts as well.  
It was so... wonderfully... painful. Just everything hurts really bad and... I enjoy it very much.

I'm not going to postpone the mission another day.  
I have to show them I'm not defeated this easily.

Wed, November 17, 2010 (Day 30)

_\-- 10am_  
The satellite phone has stopped working. Blake was going to inform the ranch about Josh and Drew and the phone was dead.  
We have to rely on Jake's word not to show up before Monday.

 _\-- 5pm_  
Blake and I have just visited the shower room. Josh and Drew... they welcomed us. Misty eyes, couldn't understand what they were groaning, but they seemed happy to see us. I remembered how we had been wondering if blunt impact kills them. Here we go... I told Blake to let it all out. All his rage against the officials, against politicians for poor handling. His frustration and despair when he had to kill innocent people. We gagged Drew and I slammed his head against the wall tiles over and over again - and it felt good to have my little revenge on him. I just hope their blood doesn't infect us. It was a pretty big mess, apparently just a little blunt damage isn't enough. We had to smash their goddamn brains in.

Now we're sitting here and wonder - well - how long did it take them to turn in the first place? They've been lifeless when we carried them over, and then at some point they have turned. It's proven that we all are infected. But just - once we fall, how long before we get up again? How much time would Jake have to end me with a bullet in my brain? How much time to dig a grave? How long can we sit with our beloved ones, before they come back? Better to know than not.  
I kinda want to see it. See it happen, how they change. And Blake is with me.  
This shit matters. We should time it.

Meanwhile the others hopefully completed our force field.

Thu, November 18, 2010 (Day 31)

_\-- 11am_  
New orders and new structures. We need to start over. We're going to bring everyone in alive. Right into the barracks, there's a nice little storage room close to the showers down in the basement. And no more pollies and pussies. We're going to get shit done, only those who are willing to do what's needed will join us. Everyone else can go to the kitchen or replace the corpses in our front yard - I don't care.

Willy wants to join. Of course he wants to join. He has this look in his eyes, a little crazy, a little fascinated. Like a sleep deprived kid that gets a new toy. His crooked smile only adds to the image. Willy hasn't been around for long, maybe a month before it all started. My bet is that he had been at a psychiatric ward and then came to the ranch to avoid further therapy. He's batshit crazy and yet - loyal and a fun guy. I like him a lot.

Back to the rules. I make the rules and they are as follows: everyone who is injured goes to the barracks. Everyone who is bitten, as a matter of course, goes to the barracks. Everyone who has a fever goes. Everyone who seems unable to communicate in our language. Those who show signs of schizophrenia as well. And everyone older than 50. If anyone wants to join their family they can go as well, the more the merrier.  
What we need from every person is their age, sex, height, weight, ethnicity and notes on their condition. Of course this goes for everyone, but the experiments have to be processed as fast and as accurately as possible. This is the only way we get exact numbers.  
As for everyone else, I want the healthy men aged 10 to 50 to line up on the square near the entrance. Blake and I will sort them out manually. Children younger than ten and healthy women of fertile age are to be brought to the administration building, I will process them there.

Fri, November 19, 2010 (Day 32)

_\-- 6pm_  
What a bitch of a day. We got only five people, all men and I've sent them all to the barracks. My boys better find more. Meanwhile Will, Blake and I study what happens when they turn. It's in their eyes. That one guy - I named him Twelve to continue the counting from earlier - I've seen him in the eyes while it happened. They turn cold, then their eyes get misty. Next moment they start moving their jaws... it's one of the most beautiful and also most terrifying things I've ever seen.

Sat, November 20, 2010 (Day 33)

_\-- 6pm_  
Not much has changed in these past 24 hours. But the others brought some more people in today, and I suspect Blake has told them to aim at their legs and fire, so I'm getting experiments instead of soldiers. All of them had to go to the barracks, everyone was injured. So now I have a total of 20 sets of data to work with. 

The formula is still a little wonky. Twenty is not much. But I can tell the reanimation time depends on body mass and age.  
Fat guys need longer. And older people seem to turn faster. Here is what I've come up with:

_[(Weight/(Height/100)²)*5-(Age*1.4)]/Cx = Minutes_

By international standards we measure weight in kg and height in cm. Age in years. Cx is the constitution factor between 1 (very healthy) and 4 (unhealthy) and I'm not sure how to measure it exactly. I guess any condition that has an effect on the blood flow, pressure, heart rate, brain structure, neurotransmission... could be a factor here.

Assuming I am healthy I will turn within 87 minutes.

But how exact is it? What about Blake's PTSD - does it affect the brain structure? And William is obviously a damaged soul. Should we give him a 2 on Cx? And does the cause of death alter the time it takes them to turn? It's too early to tell at this stage. We always shoot them in the chest to keep the data comparable, just in case. Speaking of Willy - he is up to something. I don't know what it is, but he wasn't staying around for long, although he was hyped to see them reanimate.

Sun, November 21, 2010 (Day 34)

_\-- 6am_  
I've just woken up from weird dreams. I was quite irritable... nervous. I yelled at people. Dad, Jake, some others. I don't remember why. I don't usually get this loud in front of them. I'm taught to hide so I don't get hurt. I don't think I could confront Dad like that.

 _\-- 11am_  
Blake called me to the back of the depot, said I should see it. The boys have built a parkour kind of pit for those who arrive at the depot undead. I'm halfway impressed and halfway alarmed, all honestly. But as long as they are playing, as long as they're content, it serves the greater good.  
I don't see much sun these days, so I was surprised to see clouds in the sky. It's getting colder. Still no rain.

 _\-- 5pm_  
We got only two new experiments today. I must confess I didn't care whether they were injured or not. They didn't seem fluent in our language so they had to go. I need more data, and I need it fast. Jake is visiting tomorrow.

 _\-- 7pm_  
Blake and I watch some die. We make assumptions about the time it takes them, and Blake is quite into that. He's just as eager to time them as I am. And Blake has said something interesting just now. Said what Will and the others do with the pit may be interesting for me as well. They've thrown in a guy, right into their arms. They ate him up, but only so long until he went cold. Then they lost interest and he had enough of himself left to reanimate and join them. Undead procreation, Blake said. It's amazing. Nature's grand plan.

Mon, November 22, 2010 (Day 35)

_\-- 2pm_  
Charlie has just landed. She's come alone, Jake is apparently busy at the ranch. She doesn't want to take us back yet and we aren't prepared to leave anyway. But she came with supplies. And I have to admit we have started to run out of things.  
I hate being dependant. Instead of just focusing on the border and my experiments, I should have sent for supply runs. I feel stupid now. Dad will be disappointed and I already hate myself for it.  
Charlie also gave us instructions as for when exactly we're leaving. Since we can't use our satellite phones anymore, we have to rely on each other's timing. Clear is that Dad wants me back at the ranch, as soon as possible. Thursday it is. Three more days to be productive.

 _\-- 6pm_  
Today we have found our first white experiment. His name is Steven, and he was wandering close to the depot, alone. Pretty crazy, he has no chance to survive at the ranch, so he'll go. He's still alive though, because we're hoping to find another one to compare. The question is. Does race matter?

Tue, November 23, 2010 (Day 36)

_\-- 8pm_  
First day I'm out with the others again to visit the border and guess what? We found lots and lots of people. It was in the afternoon, and there were around twenty, thirty of them, we had to shoot some dead because they were armed. Children, too. I don't dislike kids, if it was on me I would keep them alive. But they're weaker and apparently they got hit. Two casualties on our side, but it was worth it. We're going to need to work in shifts now, so we can complete the data before going back home.

They're Mexican and speak little English, besides one guy. I processed him personally, he piqued my interest. 19 years old, skinny and of mixed race. He has track marks all over his arm. I think he may turn really, really fast.  
I was about to invite him to join us for dinner, but he doesn't seem in the mood, clings to his girlfriend who got a nasty gunshot wound. I want to test a junkie anyway. He can shed some light on the condition factor of my formula.

Not today though. I kinda... I want to talk to him first.


	4. Friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I've kept you waiting!  
> There will be a comment - down in the comments - with another author's note, regarding canon divergences.  
> But for now - enjoy and be warned, Troy is cursing a lot in here.

**Chapter Four - Friendship**

Wed, November 24, 2010 (Day 37)

_\-- 1pm_  
A group of my militia has found a couple more people wandering north from the border. One man - dark hair, tan skin. A white lady and her daughter. Americans. I've seen them come in, and they were separated, according to protocol. They're the first women not injured in combat. Blake's bringing the guy to the barracks. We'll get our job finished, we've got to leave tomorrow.

 _\-- 2pm_  
I'm at the office right now with my guests, I've made tea. They've been in Mexico with a friend, he had a place there. Not that guy - Travis - he's her partner. _[Note: eliminate. I don't want him around.]_ She's made a long pause searching for the right term to describe their status, so he's clearly not worth it. She'll find someone better at the ranch - I'm sure I can convince her to join us. It's better for her daughter, too.  
Well - she's searching for her son - Nick. It's the guy I picked up yesterday. She won't find him. She's not going anywhere.

 _\-- 3pm_  
I can't stop thinking about how much she cares for her son. I mean - he got lost, he doesn't even deserve it. She's mentioned my mom, trying to make a point. They kinda look alike. Same tough aura. Same blonde hair. The eyes are alike... but Madison cares.  
I told her she can leave, but I won't let that happen. I want her... I want her around.  
Gonna check what Blake and Will are doing down in the basement now. We have some Mexicans to process. This will help me stay focused.

 _\-- 4pm_  
I've talked to Travis. He's not Mexican - far from it. He's Maori. Isolated island nation... different gene pool, this is the best that could have happened to my data. If he turns at the same speed as everyone, it would mean race has no significance.  
I also got my chance to talk to Nick, the Junkie from yesterday. Madison's son. He must resemble his father, because he is much unlike his mother. He's not a fighter, there is no strength in him. A broken soul, depressed, abused, whatever it is that made him flee to the drugs. Good for nothing. They're next, both of them. I want them gone. It's Simon's shift tonight, he needs the practice.

Thu, November 25, 2010 (Day 38)

_\-- 8am_  
This is it, our last day at the depot. I'm back at the office, I found mother and daughter dozing. Brought them coffee, I think they'll wake up soon - but for the moment I enjoy watching their sleep. They're beautiful, both. One still so young, and there are no signs she's gone through one month of an apocalypse. And Madison, how old could she be? Forty-five at most. She's in a good shape. I hope they're coming with me.

Blake updated me on the experiments last night. Simon messed it up. Fell asleep on duty, didn't time the reanimation. William suggested taking two at a time to make up for the time loss. As long as he and Blake are in charge... I'll accept it. We need to be done when Jake arrives.

Allright, she's waking up now. Madison. She's perfect. Her voice... it sounds so familiar. Soothing.  
I wouldn't mind if she came to wake me up every morning. 

_\-- 9am_  
I had a tender little moment with her. I've actually been contemplating which kind of deal I can offer to convince her to join us at the ranch, and then Travis had to cause trouble. I heard the shot, met them at the barracks. He's going to the pit. Willy can have him, I don't care about his time anymore. Nick escaped. We're gonna search him. And I have to make sure the ladies don't start to worry.

 _\-- 4pm_  
Fucking bitch, with a motherfucking spoon. Beat me up and stabbed me in the eye. I can't even take proper notes now. It all went too fast and the place is in a shambles. Jake is here, he's seen what we've been doing. Charlie - she seemed shocked. They're early, goddamn jerks. Madison had a happy little family reunion. This is not going as planned.  
Blake has just patched me up. Jake has confronted me. Didn't even get a second of rest. I have packed, we're leaving. Back home. Dad will not be pleased.

 _\-- 8pm_  
It was crazy. I don't know where they came from, but the depot was overrun, all of a sudden the dead were everywhere, and we were in midst of them. I've sent Will down to the barracks to get our stuff out. I've not seen him since - I don't think he's made it out alive. I've saved them, I had their back. Madison and her son, I mean. I took them with me. Alicia is in the helicopter, along with their significant others. It can't be helped, it's not like I had a choice. Jake and Charlie fly them home, they must arrive soon.

We're taking the long route. We're at Salton Sea now, we've stopped at the old hotel. It's too dangerous to drive when it's dark. Either we leave the lanes without the headlights, or the dead see us miles and miles ahead. Neither is an option. Madison and Nick got a room of their own, they're not leaving us as long as we have Travis and Alicia on the ranch.  
We had to refuel once, we'll have to refuel again tomorrow. I anticipate another three hours in the cars... I hope I'll find some sleep now. The eye hurts like a bitch and it's freezing cold outside. At least Blakey is around. We've lost many. Simon, William... rest in peace, I guess.

Fri, November 26, 2010 (Day 39)

_\-- 4am_  
I can't sleep, so I'm watching stars - with my good eye.  
Nick has briefly left his room as well. I suppose he's had cravings.  
When he saw me sitting outside he turned at the doorstep, without even a single word.

 _\-- 9am_  
We're back on the road. Switched the cars, so nobody gets soaked, because finally - finally - after a clear night this morning it has started to rain. Not nearly enough, of course. We got eight cars, and we're lucky that Blake made it out with his. So Blake is driving and his music is playing, which is also my music. In a world like this, small joys like these are the best. Every wound hurts a little less under the vibrations of double base drums. My guests sit in the back. _Three more hours._

 _\-- 2pm_  
Jake's missing. Dad called for me to talk as soon as we arrived.  
It was Joseph who welcomed us, poor guy is at the ranch for what, four weeks now? And I've only seen him standing at the gates.  
So Jake... he was supposed to return last night. Charlie and he both, they can navigate that helicopter in their sleep. The sky was clear when they were due to arrive, the stars clearly visible. They can't have missed the place. Something has happened.  
Let's hope it was just the brown girl who succumbed to her wounds.

 _\-- 6pm_  
I paid Mike a visit. He first didn't want to let me in, claimed he was busy. But what with? I insisted I'd help him and eventually he gave in. He broke his silence, briefly filled me in on the things that have happened on the ranch while I've been away. It's not much. Phil has done a good job at keeping the undead at bay, and Coop has trained with the boys that stayed behind. The food is rationed more strictly, considering we've exceeded our limits of ranch population - no more cooking at home. Kathy and Gretchen are in command of the ranch kitchen, I'm sure they'll do a good job. I wish Mike could just pull his shit together and talk to me normally, like he did before the undead were at our gates.

Sat, November 27, 2010 (Day 40)

_\-- 7am_  
It's good to be back. The air is cold as fuck, time to give out jackets to all the newcomers. And once again the sky was clear all night, no more rain. But that's not our biggest goddamn worry... 

_\-- 2pm_  
Finally. Jake arrived with Madison's daughter and Luciana in the late morning. Charlie is gone. I'm not one to mourn the dead, I'm really not. But Charlie... Charlie was special. We will hold a funeral for her tomorrow. Seems like they got attacked, Jake reported gunshots. It's a wonder the three of them survived, especially since Luciana here was wounded and out cold.

Speaking of her, I'm sitting on her bed in the infirmary. Nick and I, we had a little disagreement about her earlier. She's not - well - _a good match_ for the ranch. And her injuries are serious, so it might have been safer to end it right there. We don't welcome the sick and wounded.  
But Nick, he was... he was quite determined. He threatened me. For a moment I wondered if he would do it - shoot her - or me. Would have been sad. Moving. Tragic.  
But maybe I like this more. He surprised me - it's exciting.  
And even better, everyone tried to talk him out of shooting me. Including Madison.

I don't think he would have pulled the trigger either way.

In the end I got my gun back, and now I'm with the girl. I put her in handcuffs and... watch her sleep. George and Patricia will make sure she heals. The wound is not infected, it was a clean shot. She will make it. She is probably twice as tough as Nick.

On a side note, Phil is sent out to examine the helicopter crash site. Glad he's gone.

 _\-- 5pm_  
I had a conversation with Nick this afternoon. It was the first time we could talk alone. Experiment #38, four years younger than me, conflicted little brat, junkie. After the events this morning, I think he's one of the most interesting people I've met at the depot. A stranger from the city. I wonder about the things he's seen, what it was that hurt him so much. Good he's here now. 

This is your home. Your mom will like it here. Better get used to it.

Sun, November 28, 2010 (Day 41)

_\-- 8am_  
It's Charlene's funeral today. She was like a cousin of mine, a sister even. Both friend and family. She's always been a fighter, she's never been afraid. She never cried, not when she broke her bones, not when any of the animals died, not even when her boyfriend refused to live at the ranch. She wouldn't have liked what I did at the depot - didn't like the glimpse she took - and still she stayed strong, did her job. Jake said she was a hero, up in the helicopter. None of them would have survived if she hadn't brought the machine down during the attack. You will be missed, my warrioress.

 _\-- 11am_  
Patricia spoke at the funeral. And then Vernon and Madison interrupted her. Madison of all people. Doesn't she know her place?  
A war is coming. Whoever shot down the helicopter, we will take revenge on them. Speaking of which, Phil didn't contact us this morning. We assume he's reached the crash site with his team. They have automatic rifles, they will be alright.

 _\-- 3pm_  
I paid Madison a visit in the bunkhouse. She was not... amused. Neither was I - well - guess she didn't get it. She is amazing, in the way that she is controlling. Tough. Manipulative. But she could use some more empathy when it comes to the people here, how we live.

I'm not lonely Madison. I'm part of something bigger than you and your family.  
This place, my home... you understand the world out there, but do you understand the one inside these walls?

I still think she's a great addition to our group. We need strong women like her. We need them more than we need Nick. If he leaves, I have to make her stay. If he stays, even better. The only thing that must not happen is that he leaves the ranch and she goes running after him. I have to inhibit that by all means.

 _\-- 5pm_  
The boar is back. Breaks the fence, digs up the fence posts to get to the cabbage. I'll go on a hunt tonight.  
Blake is in. I'm going to ask Mike, he can't avoid me forever. Nick, too. We will see if he can adapt.  
Reminds me that Jake asked me to stay away from the Clarks. But I brought them here, brother.  
They will need my guidance. They're my guests. My friends.  
They're mine.

 _\-- 7pm_  
Nicky needs some inclusion, some practical exercise.  
Time to learn how to survive in the desert.  
Or... how to die in the desert, if he doesn't agree to stay.

 _\-- 11pm_  
_"Earn your keep,"_ I told him. And damn it, he did.  
He had the chance to shoot me, and this time he pulled the trigger. The goddamn bullet hit the ground inches from my head. That's a turn of events to my liking! He's crazy. And I think - we may be alike. More than I expected when I first met him.  
Who knows... maybe he's the one who will understand me, will get the bits his mother doesn't notice. A boy from the city - why not.

The jerk pulled apart my diary though. I'm glad he only got the last pages. Nothing that I noted there. Nothing... of importance.

Mon, November 29, 2010 (Day 42)

_\-- 5am_  
He stood at my room door. It swung open without a noise. I didn't hear him coming, he didn't knock or call my name. Phil McCarthy, a gun in his hand, loosely hanging down. Then his snarl: "You shouldn't be the heir, boy. You're the youngest Otto. It should be me. Should be Vern, should be Jake before you."  
He raised his gun and I raised mine. A nightmare, it was just a nightmare. But I can still feel the pain of the bullet hitting my shoulder. I can still see him lying in my bathroom, fouled up beyond all recognition, in his own blood. His eyes were missing, in my hand a teaspoon. And Madison's words echoed in the room - _"Killing people is not complicated."_

I'm watching the sunrise now, I'm done with sleeping.

 _\-- 10am_  
Vern slaughtered a hog, what a feast. The strange thing is that Phil's still missing. More than 36 hours and no call from him. He's never gone missing before. As if my dream was prophetic...  
We're gonna go look for him. Blake, Mike, Coop, Jimmy. We're leaving tomorrow.  
...with Madison. As if she wanted to make sure I'm not gonna take out Nicky again.

 _\-- 1pm_  
_Luciana_. Something Nick said earlier came to my mind. _"It's your fault. You shot her."_  
What if it really was me who shot her?  
I paid her another visit, watched our _sleeping beauty_.  
George said she's ready to get up. She won't turn and now that Nick seems to get comfortable around me, she's free to go.  
I told her it was me. Told her it's her choice to live or die. She could stay, of course, become a part of the family. I don't see that happen, though. Too much animosity.  
The sooner she leaves, the better.

 _\-- 6pm_  
It's the apocalypse and I... work in the fields. That's the ranch spirit. If we can't keep up our home-grown food supply, we all will starve. At least Coop is here with me, and we're talking about music. I asked him to get back into roleplay, but he refused. It's too soon. He's missing Charlene, missing her really bad. He doesn't show it, but I know.

 _\-- 11pm_  
Another life was lost. Old Russell's house was on fire tonight. We couldn't rescue him and Martha. We tried. We really, really tried. Jake and me, and everyone from the militia. But eventually dad said we should save the water and let it burn.  
There was no chance we would get them out alive. Even if it took me a moment to get that, my father was right about it. Russell is gone. He was like a grandfather to me.

Tue, November 30, 2010 (Day 43)

_\-- 11am_  
We got up early and loaded the trucks. A quick stop at the road when we spotted a group of undead. A prison transport bus, 12 of them walking and gnarling. I promised Coop it wouldn't take more than five minutes, we even managed to stay under one. Good work, everyone.

Now we have reached the helicopter site, but it's gone. There's ammo on the ground, Jimmy recognized it to be Phil's.  
I'm pretty sure he retreated to the outpost. We're gonna find him. And we're gonna find whoever attacked the group, whoever attacked the chopper, and killed Charlie. Mourning time is over, now comes revenge.

Wed, December 1, 2010 (Day 44)

_\-- 4pm_  
I'm back home in my room. I'm glad they didn't take the diary, but there was no way I could add an explanation of what happened yesterday.  
We reached the outpost at late noon. The fuckers scorched them, Phil's whole group. It was the worst stench I've ever smelled. Phil was scalped alive, a crow eating his brain. Not that I mind that he's gone. But it wasn't his right to do it. Taqa had _no fucking right_.  
He crossed our borders, he killed some of ours on our land. Killed one of the founding fathers. He also is the one who shot down the helicopter.  
This is a declaration of war.  
We need to stop him. If we can't defend our borders, then what's the point of this place? The ranch was built as shelter for those who want to survive the apocalypse. If a _wild man_ comes and tells us to leave, we can't accept it. Everything we believed in, everything we fought for, we can't give that up. It's not their right. It's not their fucking right. We settled that at court. The ranch is ours.

They sent us back home on bare feet, no supplies, no firearms, no vehicles.  
We had to stop for the night because Mike is a fucking pussy. Nobody had my back. None of them. When it comes down to it, they're all cowards and assholes. Who's gonna save our families if we can't? Who's gonna save them when we're back late, because poor Mikey is walking on blisters?  
It's sheer luck that Taqa didn't attack tonight and took them all out.

And it's Madison's luck that she reminds me of mom. I could have killed her last night. Should have, probably.

Then, this morning - or maybe it was noon already - when we arrived Mike lost it. He told everyone about the indians, he refused to listen to me. He caused a goddamn panic out of spite.  
Friendship, I guess, is no more than an illusion. I'm losing him. Lost him already.

Talking to my family wasn't much better. Coop didn't show up, Jake had sent him to the infirmary. Madison was meddling, dad was angry at me, of course he was. I _didn't_ fire at the helicopter. I _didn't_ attack Phil's group. I also _didn't_ decide to walk back home without boots. I _didn't_ yell bullshit at the gates to unsettle everyone. I wasn't in control of all these, and yet, that's his reason to blame me. I've not been in control.

And now Jake's the one to talk to the people. Dad wants him to show up more, to take over. I know we're both supposed to inherit the ranch. I don't mind it. But when Jake asked dad to send me with him, the old man just left the room.

Well - not the first time I go back upstairs alone after a fight like this.

Not the first time I tend to my wounds alone. 

_\-- 8pm_  
What's even going on with Mike? I'd say going to college didn't do him any good, but he was just fine during the first week.  
Is he losing his mind over the dead walking?  
And he's gonna let it out on me? Well, then fuck him. I'm stronger alone anyway.

At least when I'm alone, there is nobody lashing out at me. Nobody stabbing my back.  
Nobody being in my _goddamn_ way of doing what _fucking_ needs to be done.  
Who needs friends like that?

Thu, December 2, 2010 (Day 45)

_\-- 7am_  
Taqa, again. The war has already started, and what he did with the fires last night was a clear threat. I've been out with the boys all night. We stayed inside the fences, but made sure none of the fires grew big.  
People were scared and panicking about the flames getting near our tents and houses. It's happened just after the fire at Russell's home, too. But these were built to die down. It's a message, no more, no less.  
We've just returned from a patrol, we counted twenty fireplaces this morning.

Dad was drunk when I met him. How can he still say I'm the one that lost control?

 _\-- 10am_  
I went down to the pantry after breakfast. Damn good I did!  
They're all backstabbers. Pretentious. Once a real threat comes near, they run headless like pollies. Talking big about being family, and then - I'm angry. I knew people would leave. And if they want to die out in the desert, then it's their goddamn right to. But Dax and Patricia?

Dax is Charlene's younger brother. As close as I've always been with Charlie, it's not been the same with Dax. Sure, he is family, even if he might have forgotten that temporarily. But where Charlie was tough and powerful, he always took a backseat. He's in the militia, technically, but he's not good with weapons. He rather aimed to study, like Mike. Geology. Nice subject. Of no use in the apocalypse.  
Patricia on the other hand... we can't lose her. I hate to command her, to talk her down, to get impersonal. She's part of the very core of the ranch. We need her in the infirmary, in the kitchen, running errands like she's always done. While in each task she does she may be replaceable - as a person, as a whole, she is not. The ranch would be in a shambles.

And what then? What if everyone notices both of them are gone? Others will follow. If not even Patricia believes in the old Otto anymore, the people will swarm out - and away. I have to make sure the lady is staying. And preferably Dax, too.

On a positive note, I've also met Nicky down there.  
So... Luciana is gone. And he's still here, building up his own little house to stay at.  
The city boy is doing well, soon he will be one of us.  
After all - we're friends now - right?  
At least one who's staying.  
This gives me hope.

 _\-- 5pm_  
Dad punched me in the face. It hurts... from the impact, of course. But also the humiliation. Everyone was watching. It was between Jake and me. Should have been. Jake's not ready to lead the ranch, he doesn't have a clue what the ranch is about. He's gonna surrender what's ours, without batting an eye. But -

No.

It was between Mike and me.  
So maybe dad gave Vernon green light to leave the ranch. Take his family and flee - to a place that's surely not better than here. Maybe he was okay with the Trimbols filling the tank of their RV, and taking food from the pantry. Maybe I have been the only one not filled in, if even Jimmy knew.

But Mike...  
Mike owed me a goodbye.  
I'll never see him again.  
We have been friends since we were born.  
We've been out there in the desert, just the two of us.  
We've shared secrets, we've had good times.

I know I said I wouldn't need him - and I don't. He's grown into a goddamn polly.  
He's always been soft - but now? The city failed him.  
He couldn't even look into my eyes.  
He's grown distant, grown quiet. When was the last time we even talked?  
He can't do that to me.

He can't leave like that.

He can't.

 _\-- 6pm_  
I feel small. I wasn't even worth a goodbye.  
Well - certain social aspects proved challenging for Troy. That's it isn't it?  
It's me, not able to hold up a friendship. I'm not perfect.  
He was my best friend. Now he's gone. He's never quit me, but now he did.  
And I'm worth shit, not even worth a little fight at the end. Not even looking at me.  
How am I supposed to deal with that, huh? How can I change your mind when you don't even listen?

Just ignore me, Mike. Just ignore me.

You probably don't even know how much it fucking hurts.

 _\-- 9pm_  
Had an emergency meeting with the remaining militia. I have to make sure everyone is with me. We cannot afford to lose anyone else. We have to secure the gates, the cars, and the weapons. This place is all we have, and we have to defend it with our lives.

From now on, we set an example.  
We become a role model of what this place needs.

This place is important. The people are important.  
United we are strong, united we can survive.  
I don't even know how anyone can _want_ to leave.  
There's nothing out there. The cities are burnt. The closer you get to civilization, the more of the undead you'll have to face. Sure, there might be safe places in the mountains, but the road there is long. Chances are you'll die.

You're dead to me, anyway.

How could Mike prefer _that_ to the ranch?

To hell with this. Jimmy was right.  
Tracking Mike down and beating his ass into the ground _would_ be a start.

I'm going.

Fri, December 3, 2010 (Day 46)

_\-- 4am_  
I can't sleep... the house is silent.  
I still can see his face in front of me.

But he's gone. He's not coming back.  
It's bad, so bad. Not how it should have ended.  
I didn't want that, but he had it coming. He's been warned.

_Bye forever, Mike._


End file.
